“The red was so bright and shiny,” she said, “it was hard to look at.” But when I met her, four years post-purchase, the red finish on her 1989 Corolla SR5 coupe had oxidized to pinkish dullness.
It was a common affliction among red Corollas of this vintage. But she loved her car, and it suited her. It was a lithe little car for a lithe little blonde. And she drove it like she stole it, with her foot always deep into the gas pedal and the front bumper right on the tail of anyone who wouldn’t go her speed. She always wanted (but wouldn’t pony up the extra dough for) a custom license plate that read FLYNBYU.
And why not? Its 1.6-liter, DOHC, 4A-F engine might have generated only 95 hp, but in such a light car it felt like a lot of punch. And it was low-slung and tightly suspended; it felt good to throw it into a corner. That it was manually shifted through its five gears only added to the fun. Really, this was no performance car, but it was still a hoot to toss around on city streets.
With driving habits like hers, she attracted plenty of attention from the authorities. But she had a perfect record–every cop let her off the hook. They were suckers for a pretty face.
She even got me out of a ticket once. We passed through tiny Thorntown, Indiana, on our way to a camping trip. I drove my Beretta and she followed in her Corolla, as we needed both of our small cars to haul all the gear. I didn’t see the speed-limit sign at the edge of town, and a police car quickly pulled out of somebody’s driveway with lights flashing and siren blaring. I pulled over and the officer, a big Sheriff Buford type with a buzz cut and mirrored aviator sunglasses, proceeded to give me a chewin’ out. His face pinched, he wondered with considerable volume if I had skill enough to read speed-limit signs when my girlfriend pulled around in front of me and stopped. Sheriff Buford seemed annoyed and waddled purposefully toward her car. He was gone for quite some time, but when he came back, he was chuckling and smiling. He told me to just take it slow through town and wished me a good weekend!
Since this happened before everybody had cell phones, I had to wait about two hours until we reached the campsite to ask just what the heck happened. She said, “When he came up, I rolled down the window, batted my eyelashes at him, and said, ‘If you give him a ticket, you have to give me one too, because I was following him!’ He laughed and laughed and I guessed when you drove off that he let us off the hook.”
This did nothing to improve my opinion about Thorntown. But it did improve my opinion about the girl. I married her, and a stepson and the Corolla came with the deal. Her little Corolla trudged on reliably for through most of our marriage, except that it ate mufflers and required a new one annually.
One day I was driving the Corolla down a narrow road near our home. Something distracted my attention, and in the half-second I looked away from the road the car drifted slightly to the right and a utility pole at pavement’s edge violently removed the passenger-side mirror. I found a replacement mirror at a junkyard and attached it, but the used mirror’s finish hadn’t oxidized as much as the rest of the car. My wife was sad enough that I’d damaged her baby; that my repair didn’t quite match only mounted her disappointment. Having spent almost everything left in our checking account on the mirror, my options were few. So I bought a can of polishing compound and buffed the entire car by hand so the entire finish matched. It didn’t restore the fabled hard-to-look-at luster, but it did brighten the car considerably.
About the time my stepson reached driving age, she reluctantly admitted that she needed a larger car for our growing family, and bequeathed the Corolla to him. Predictably, this hastened the little coupe’s demise; shortly after, he ran it into a post. The front-end damage was slight, but the hood latch was weakened. He didn’t realize that until a few days later when, at 40 mph, the hood flew up, smacked and cracked the windshield, and then flung itself off the car. He managed to jury-rig the hood back on–bungee cords were involved–but the battered Corolla had lost its allure. Using his savings, he upgraded to a used but cherry Mustang GT. And then we had no more need for the little Corolla.
With that body damage and 175,000 miles on the clock, my wife thought her 13-year-old car couldn’t be worth anything, so she sold it for scrap. It was a sad day for her when we left it in the scrap dealer’s hands with just $50 in ours. She kept the shift knob as a memento.
We thought that would be the end of the Corolla’s story, but a month later we got a letter from the police stating that it had been found abandoned on an I-70 overpass in town, and if the car was still ours we could find it at the impound lot. That overpass is where it breathed its last. It was such a sad ending for that great little car.
(curbside photos by Paul Niedermeyer)
. My dear brunette had a 2 year old Escort when we married. With the arrival of a papoose several years later it was sold to her brother. After much physical abuse and at 220,000 miles a cylinder decided to retire. The poor thing could still look amazing inside with a little shampoo.
For autos there is no death with dignity.
Unfortunately, the retirement home for cylinders is the junkyard. 🙁
What is it about we Hoosiers that it took marriage to bring a Japanese car into the driveway? 🙂 Your story reminds me of how when I met the future Mrs. JPC, she was the proud owner of a nearly new 88 Honda Accord LX sedan. Hers was darkish blue instead of red, and suffered through a major hailstorm and a flash flood.
The flood damage (around 1995) scared me enough that I sold the car (with full disclosure). It was a bad decision, as I saw that dimpled blue Accord running around for years afterwards. That car was a revelation to me about how good a car could be. I do not believe that the car ever required a repair other than maintenance and wear items.
I always thought that these Corolla coupes were good looking little cars. They used to be around a lot, but I don’t believe that I have ever been in one.
Your memories of the red paint ring a bell. My college roommate’s family bought a red 74 Charger about 1978. The car had been partially repainted, and it suffered from the same kind of oxidation. The factory paint was only a little better than the repaint, and most of it looked about as bad as the pictured car. One day his parents drove it to visit us at college and we couldn’t believe it – the thing looked like new. We were sure that his dad got it painted, but he told us that it was just rubbing compound and elbow grease. He was pretty smug about it, too.
I would not have ever thought about buying a Toyota were it not for this Corolla. I tried sticking to ‘merican cars one more time but got such a lemon that I fled to Toyota for my next three. One of those cost me $3000+ when the transmission failed, so I’ve learned that Toyotas aren’t always unicorns and rainbows.
Polishing compound worked well in the pre-clear-coat days. Not so much anymore.
Interesting I have a French car that only requires basic maintenance and replacement of wear items and its twice the car to drive than any Jappa will ever be.
My wife brought ford products to my world. Actually Mercury. She was driving a Mercury Topaz which continually broke when it was inconvenient. As a two car lady she also had a 64 Mercury Marauder which has graced this column with it’s sad end.
I would have fallen for her if she had been driving a Honda or Toyota too.
I took my driver’s license test in one like this during the summer of 1992. I was going to begin college on August of that year and needed my license so that I could drive between college and home. The campus was near my parents’ home so I could stay at my parents’ house and drive to college. My stepdad wanted to make sure that I passed the test so he paid some private classes and the instructor had a Corolla like this one but white. The instructor gave me some clues for passing the test like for example when I was parking the car to wait until I saw certain tree in a specific part of the mirror and then turn the wheel 4 times and things like that. I passed the test with flying colors. Here in Puerto Rico the test is given by a DMV official but you have to bring your own car and the test is given always on the same specific areas. So with a little practice you can pass the test even if you don’t really know how to drive. I already knew how to drive but was not familiar with the area of the test. Finally I could legally drive and I officially knew what real freedom meant. Me and my 1987, white, base model, 5 speed, Nissan Sentra inherited from my dad who died in 1989, became one and as they say, the rest is history.
This Corollas were popular here but nowhere near as popular as the previous generation, RWD ones. But, you can never forget the car that made it possible for a 17 years old to legally go where no 17 years old has gone before. Well at least without his parents at his side.
Anyone who tailgates is a**hole. No exceptions.
Feel free to tell her that.
I’ll second that. It’s vehicular assault, and the fact that it’s usually being done carelessly rather than deliberately in no way excuses it. I’ve found that subtly randomly varying my speed by a few miles per hour generally induces them to go away.
Generalize about strangers much? I’ve certainly made more than my fair share of ad hominem comments on this site and others, but even I thought that was uncalled for.
Conversely, Jim previously inferred that he’s now divorced. Perhaps he’s willing to tell her that after all…
Back on topic, I can’t remember the last time I saw a red Toyota of this vintage that hadn’t faded to a chalky pink. Almost seems like they came from the factory this way. Red was a hard color for anyone to get right in that era, but Toyota was the worst at it.
Didn’t think that I’d be reading “ad hominem” today. Well done, Sir!
Any one who holds up traffic, especially in the left lane, is the same.
Jim, you may recall from an earlier post that I also owned an ’89 Corolla SR5 5-speed stick but light metallic blue. I bought it new as a fresh graduate from Ga Tech in Dec. ’88 and sold it in Aug ’94 to get a Mazda Navajo (Ford Explorer). I drove the crap out of that thing, and yes, it was a lot of fun rowing through the gears and winding that 4a-f1.6 up. My original muffler lasted but only because I did longer trips.
It did have a trunk seal that leaked and the trunk floor was often damp after it rained. I took it to the dealership twice under warranty to fix and they finally got it right after replacing the trunk seal and the taillight seals. So yes, Toyotas aren’t perfect. My girlfriend at the time also put a dent in the passenger side door when she flung the door open against a gas pump pole.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed it and was disappointed that my current ’06 Corolla is not fun at all like that ’89 SR5 was (my wife likes it though so it’s pretty much her daily driver).
I’ll bet your ’06 outweighs your ’89 by a fair amount, which probably is a big piece of sucking the life out of that car.
I’m sure it does weigh more. The ’06 is completely devoid of any personality or fun, but it’s so utterly reliable and care-free that I can’t find a justifiable excuse to get rid of it. And despite my inability to bond with it, my wife would be pissed if I sold it (and would cut me off for a very long time) – she really likes it.
You know, I completely forgot about the little openings in the outside rearview mirrors on the ’89. I remember thinking how neat it was and completely forgot about that little detail over the last 18 1/2 years since I got rid of it.
Reminds me of my Grand Prix… I love little details like that! This is the only other car I can think of with a rearview mirror in that style. I glue little action figures in mine because it makes me happy!! 😀
When I lived in Kingman, AZ I bought a little Jack-In-The-Box antennae ball for my Mazda Navajo. After awhile, someone stole it. I bought another one (they were cheap); someone stole that one. And another… I probably went through four or five of those things before I finally gave up. I also had a Tasmanian devil cartoon license plate on the front.
Since then, I’ve “grown up” and drive boring bland-mobiles.
I bought an ’81 Corolla SR-5 coupe, a new model that year and pretty sharp looking. It had the 3TC engine and a five speed. You could beat that car like a rented mule and it loved it. I gave the car to a family member 7 years later when I needed a pick up truck.
Last summer I rented a Corolla. I know I’m easily amused and like shiny things, but after 2 weeks and 2500 miles, through mountains and thunderstorms, I was impressed by it’s competence. Not fast, not luxurious….it held its own. While I have outgrown it in so many ways, I would have no problem getting one for any of the kids as a safe haven.
I never got a chance to drive one of these, but I always wanted to… looked like they would be so much fun. This, the AE86 Corolla and FX16 hatch (AE82) all really appealed to me in a way few other Toyotas did. Which is not to say I don’t like Toyota in general, because I do, but I’ve always thought there was something uniquely cool about the Corolla “sport” models.
The car in these pictures is a good example of how ridiculously indestructible and high quality the materials Toyota used on their interiors were in the late 80’s. This is a car that someone has obviously neglected and actively tried to destroy… and yet it just needs a simple cleaning to look brand new (on the inside) again. No rips, no cracks… probably doesn’t even rattle around going over potholes. IMO that’s something that really set Toyota apart from the competition, even the other Japanese brands, during this era. Mercedes-Benz build quality at Pontiac prices.
I didn’t know that Toyota was still putting carbs on anything in 1989 or that a “4A-F” even existed… interesting. Almost like an Alfa-Romeo throwback! I can’t think of too many other carbed twin cam fours. It’s really a shame that after the AE92, Toyota stopped offering anything but plain-jane Corolla variants in the US. I always saw lots of these, FX’s and GT-S’ – and still do on occasion, so what gives?
My former pastor had a 2-door ’89 ‘rolla a few years ago. JDM import, so had the front end without pop-up lights. 5-speed manual, big exhaust, 17″ aftermarket wheels, big boot spoiler (was so heavy the bootlid wouldn’t stay open), it was a little rocketship. He didn’t really care – he got it cheap. The only thing that annoyed him about it was the relentless warning bell that sounded if one ventured above 100km/h – which he never would, as that’s NZ’s speed limit, and he was a pastor after all! 😉
But because I was a good lad, I removed the sensor for him one day and the ding-ding-ding was gone, gone, gone.
On the subject of red paint, it doesn’t fair well in NZ’s harsh sunlight either. When I bought my old 1984 Ford Sierra in 1993, I counted 13 different shades of red where it had oxidised or faded at different rates…
That looks like a great beat up car with a lot of memories. I love the color red and maybe with some retouches, you can make it look brand new.
This is a great story and a great car with a lot of character! I just bought a white one yesterday and fell in love. thanks for the story